Every Sinner, Every Saint
by Heartaches and Cheap Wine
Summary: Sometimes people from your past come back, sometimes they don't. And sometimes, just sometimes, they're not at all who you ever thought they were. Morgan/OC
1. Someone I used to Know

**A/N**: Hi, guys :) I'm new to the Criminal Minds fandom so it goes without saying that this is my first fic. I'm not promising it'll be spectacular nor am I promising that all of my information is correct; I've marathoned 6 seasons in 7 weeks so things are a bit blurry. I do however, have a secret weapon in the form of one of my Best Friend's who has kindly read this over and listened to me rambled about it for a while. Any mistakes left, are mine though. Please leave reviews because they make me smile.

**Warnings**: Um, Salem Witch Trials/Burning at the Stake, mentions of torture...an OC (Some people don't like them, I'm just covering the basis.) Some strong language. Rated T for a reason.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own criminal minds, nor do I own The Crucible. This is all just for fun and so I don't go insane.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Someone I used to Know.<span>**

"_Every Saint has a past and every Sinner has a future.__"__ - Oscar Wilde._

The BAU conference room was quiet, the calm before the storm, just when Agent Aaron Hotchner felt the most relaxed. The entire FBI Headquarters at Quantico was quiet, only a few workaholics and the cleaning staff in at this time. Them and Chief Strauss. Hotch leaned over and turned the coffee maker on, this was going to be a long day and a particularly disturbing case if the briefing Strauss had given him over the phone was anything to go by. Hotch hadn't even had time to put his tie on before he was thanking Hailey's sister for the millionth time and diving out of the door, Go bag in one hand, briefcase in the other and his tie and suit jacket somewhere in between.

The case they had just come off of was a particularly draining one, too. It had lasted more than a week and even then they had only managed to save one of the unsubs fifteen victims; the unsub himself dying. Suicide by Cop. Hotch huffed out a breath. There was no justice in that for the victims' families, but it was the unsub of the Sheriff and Hotch wasn't taking any chances.

The past few cases, hell, the past few months had been a slow burn of torture for the team. They'd been reckless without Prentiss, the team struggling to cope with her apparent death. Then when it was safe for her to return, it stirred up more emotion and tension than had been there before she'd gone. Hotch sighed again and upturned one of the blue, standard issue FBI mugs and filled it with the hot liquid, putting more water into the machine to make sure there was enough coffee for the team when they got here.

Hotch walked over to the table with his folders and his mug of coffee, settling down into one of the chairs and opening it before closing his eyes against the images there.

"That bad, huh?" Agent Derek Morgan asked as he walked into the room. He looked exhausted as he dropped his Go Bag on the floor next to the door and made his way over to the coffee pot, silently thanking Hotch with a pat on the shoulder on the way past. The case they had been on a few weeks ago being a tough one for Morgan. One that usually brought nightmares and a practically non-existent sleeping pattern as it were, Hotch almost felt guilty for dragging the man into this, wanting nothing more than to send him home to get some proper rest. But Morgan wouldn't want that. He wouldn't want the pity or the concern, he'd want to be left to do his damned job.

"Yeah, did you think we'd get a simple one, this time?" Hotch answered Morgan's question, reluctantly turning back to the case files.

"A man can hope." Morgan answered, turning around to lean against the counter. "How bad is this one?"

"Women are being tortured and burned to death." Hotch almost felt Morgan's despair in the sigh the other agent let out. "Strauss' fast tracked this one to us. The Chief of the FBI unit in Boston is a friend of hers, they called us in."

"Will it get her off of our back if we do it?" Morgan asked, turning back to make himself some coffee and warm up Reid and Garcia's mugs.

"Probably not, but its best not to give her any more reason to want to transfer this team to opposite ends of the country." Hotch looked over in Morgan's direction, noting the eye roll from the other Agent. Morgan still clearly had unresolved issues with Strauss, that coupled with the recent breach of his trust - something that he had trouble doing to begin with - by the Hotch and J.J in the whole Prentiss case, he was still wounded. Even if the latest few cases showed he was more than dealing with his trust issues, Hotch knew they were still there.

"Whose transferring now?" Agent Jennifer Jareau asked, a level of shock to her voice as she stuck her head into the room.

"No-one," Hotch looked at the blonde who looked between him and Morgan.

"Good. Do you know where the others are?" She asked, dropping her Go Bag next to Morgan's.

"On their way in, as far as I know." Hotch took a drink from his cup. "I called everyone as soon as Strauss called me."

"Right, I'll go get started, then." and with that the blonde vanished from the doorway.

"How does it look, profile wise?" Morgan asked as he walked over to the table and sat down. "I know we don't have much,"

"I'm not sure. There are too many variables right now, without more information we could be looking at 80% of the world's population."

"Great." Morgan deadpanned, glancing up at the clock on the wall above the HD Screen. Like they needed to see crime scene photos in HD. Seeing them at all was enough for nightmares. Hotch leaned back in his chair, fishing around in his pocket for his tie. He was the leader of this team, and right now they needed something normal to hold on to. He buttoned his top button after laying the red tie on the table, only then noticing that the other agent in the room with him had slumped down slightly in his seat and had closed his eyes, opting to catch up on some sleep before the others got here than try and wake himself up. Hotch had just and no more gotten his tie sorted and settled into his chair again, when the sound of high heels came rushing up the stairs and into the conference room.

At the first sound of the heels Morgan had stood and made his way over to the coffee cups he had sitting on the counter, pouring the hot water out into the sink and filling them both with the dark liquid, putting four teaspoons of sugar in one and a heap of cream in them both, turning around just in time to hand one of the mugs to Penelope Garcia as she passed, getting a kiss on the cheek for his efforts.

Hotch knew he should probably tell them off for it, tell them to cool it down with the pet names and the shameless, harmless, flirting - it was just one more thing that Strauss could use against them, but seeing the moment of peace that it brought the two of them, he let it go. It was too early and too dark to take that from them right now.

"I really wish that unsubs would be more respectful of our sleeping patterns." Garcia announced as she dropped into on the chairs in the conference room, her cardigan wasn't buttoned properly and her green spotted tights were twisted. She took a large gulp of coffee before settling her oversized mug down on the table and trying to organise herself a little bit. Hotch gave an small smile, hiding it before either of the other two people in the room could see it.

"Word, baby girl." Morgan held up his mug as a toast to Garcia who gave him a small smile in return. He slumped into the chair again, his worn hoodie soft and comfortable looking against his skin as he relaxed against the leather, closing his eyes again.

"Don't we all. Do you know how hard it is to get a babysitter at 4:30 in the morning?" J.J grumbled as she dished out the paper copies of anything that hadn't been uploaded to the teams' tablets as of yet and some note paper and pens for them to scribble on. Even she wasn't dressed for the office; her hair pulled back into a messy bun, basic make up, jeans and a sweatshirt her clothing of choice. Hotch could sympathise. Calling Hailey's sister at that time in the morning was bordering on ridiculous even for his standards, especially when he hadn't been in town 48 hours yet.

"Will still in Louisiana?" Garcia asked, purposely looking away from the pictures that J.J put up on the screen and focusing on the bright green and pink polish she had on her nails, probably making some sort of mental note to redo them when she had a chance. Probably in some other bright colour or pattern.

"Yeah, he's due back tonight. But we'll be in Salem." There was a sadness to J.J's voice, something that he'd heard before. Something he'd heard in his own voice not so long ago, when he was still married, right before Hailey had left him and his life had fallen apart. Hotch knew that J.J was having problems at home, something this job dealt in. You kept stupid hours, you couldn't _not_ take the job home with you. It was hard, but J.J was strong and she'd get through it. Eventually.

"As in Salem Witch Trials, Salem?" Garcia looked up at J.J with wide eyes. Hotch watched as Morgan's eyes flickered open at the slight sound of distress in Penelope's voice. She wasn't one of those girls who couldn't handle blood, gore and evil but she wasn't overtly able to deal with it. She was one of those girls who actively chose to see the beauty in the world, not evil, who still believed in fairytales and Christmas. One of those people who just seem to always radiate happiness and Hotch knew this case would leave a lasting effect on her. It would take some of that happiness away and he hated it. Agent Aaron Hotchner might not be one to show emotion, but that didn't mean he didn't feel it.

"Yeah, four women have been found tortured, beaten and burned to death. All in their twenties, all blonde haired and blue eyed, all work in alternative therapy. There were notes left with each of the victims, too." J.J gave Garcia a sad smile before her eyes moved back to the victims on the screen, clearly wanting nothing more than to be back with her little boy right now and that the sadistic asshole that was doing this to these girls not out there in the world.

"Well that would suggest witch back in those days." Agent David Rossi said in lieu of a welcome as he dumped his Go Bag and walked over to the coffee machine, give Morgan a grateful squeeze on the shoulder as he passed, dumping the hot water out of the mug and into the sink before filling the mug with coffee, making his way back over to the table and sliding into a chair.

"But they were hanged, in Salem, not burned. All 19 people were hanged. Up to 17 more people died in prison awaiting trial and one man was pressed to death because he refused to plead guilty or not guilty." Dr. Spencer Reid announced as he slipped into his chair and throwing his Go Bag under the table, smiling gratefully when Morgan pushed a mug of coffee in his direction. Reid continued before anyone got a chance to get a word in "Burning at the stake has been going on for thousands of years, even before the birth of Christ. It was the method of choice in the European Witch Hunts. The last person known to be burned to death due to witchcraft was…" He looked around the room, eyes falling back down to the paper in front of him, another one of his facts deemed as useless knowledge. A quote that Hotch had read a while back popped into his mind at that moment as he watched the young genius look somewhat deflated. _The whole problem with this world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves and the wiser people so full of doubts. _Hotch thought, watching the young man for any other sign of how he was feeling.

"The kid's right." Morgan shrugged, pulling Hotch from his thoughts. He knew deep down it would be Morgan that would offer out some sort of lifeline to Reid. They seemed to have the brother dynamic going on and Morgan was always looking out for him. "I mean, if the un-sub is using the witch trials in the 1600s as a basis of their knowledge of this kind of thing, they would have hanged they're victim. Not burned them to death. It's not making sense."

"So the un-sub isn't killing them by the same motives used in the Salem Witch Trials, is there anything else other than the medical connection tying them to the trials?" Hotch asked and scrubbed his hand down his fact when the others cast blank gazes on him. He knew how it sounded '_they're not burning their victims to death because they think that they're witches' _but at the same time, that was the only glaringly obvious thing about this case. They victims weren't dying because they were thought to be witches, there had to be some other cause for this. Strauss had sounded stressed on the phone, emphasising it was imperative that he get to Salem as quickly as possible when he had suggested that it waited until morning, now he understood why. This case would go into the press and all of a sudden it would be Salem all over again. "Okay, so same MO, same victim type, anything else they have in common?" he rephrased the question, certain that although his team knew what he meant the first time, they simply hadn't switched on yet. That was his job, be on alert, be focussed and get the team to do the same thing.

"Wait." Reid held up his hand, a little bit like a school boy. "The victims names sound familiar."

"You have an eidetic memory, and you just read them, of course they do." Agent Emily Prentiss gave the group a smile as she walked into the room, go bag in hand. She almost reached out to touch Reid's hand, probably to give him a high five, but stopped short and the Doctor dropped his hand to his side. "Sorry, traffic is hell at this time in the morning. Who knew." Prentiss shrugged as she slipped into her seat.

"No. I mean." Reid huffed out a breath as he got up and walked over to the screen. "I've seen these names before, way before now. What did the notes say?"

"Uh," J.J clicked the button, all four of the notes coming up on screen.

"Wow. If they weren't left at crime scenes on dead bodies they would be beautiful." Prentiss remarked, eyes taking in the quality cream cardstock, the golden embossed edges and the beautiful calligraphy that the words were written in, brow furrowed in confusion. "Is that handwriting?"

"I know, right?" Garcia looked towards the dark haired agent, eyes as wide as the other women's. "Who even writes like that anymore?"

"Uh, guys." Reid spoke before anyone else got the chance. "These are quotes from The Crucible, remember the play by Arthur Miller? And the victims names are familiar because they were victims of the witch trials." There was a collective groan when Reid made the announcement. All of them familiar with the effects of people taking things in books too literally. Yes the Witch Trials happened, but there was no concrete evidence of an affair between anyone or of anyone actually being a witch, simply the hysteria that went along with it at the time.

"Wheels up in twenty." Hotch sighed and got up, already bone tired and they hadn't started on this case yet, phone in hand ready to call the flight team to let them know they were needed. They'd need Garcia on this one with them, they'd need hard drives de-whatever-ed and they didn't have the time to send them to her. Turning to look at the Technical Analyst, Hotch caught her eye before speaking. "Garcia, pack a Go Bag. We need you with us on this one."

"I have twenty minutes to put together a go bag, sir?" Garcia enquired and Hotch realised how impossible that task was. Yes, Strauss wanted them out of here ASAP, but his team needed to be ready. If she would have told him the complete nature of the case over the phone, they wouldn't be in this situation. Hotch couldn' help but get the feeling that the Section Unit Chief wanted them to fail at something. Any excuse to obliterate the BAU and bring in some young blood. Bring in inexperience.

"Make it forty-five, then." Hotch said, and left the room leaving Garcia looking a mixture between worried and puzzled.

"There's no way I'll make it back to my apartment in time." Hotch heard her say from where he stood outside the room, he watched as she turned a worried glance at J.J who smiled apologetically before gathering up her files and her Go Bag to get back to her office.

"Call Lynch. Have him make you a go bag and tell him to meet me at Walker's. I'll pick it up." Morgan told her, getting to his feet and grabbing for his Go Bag at the door. Hotch glanced back as he made his way to his own office, as Morgan hurried down te steps and out of the bullpen, heading for his office no doubt. Rossi had told Hotch, once, that Strauss had called Morgan replaceable. Told him that the team could function without him, but Hotch knew differently. Derek Morgan may be the muscle of the team, the one who is always in first and kicking down the doors, but he does his fair share of keeping everyone together emotionally, too. Morgan was the rock for the team in ways that Hotch could never be. There was no doubt that Morgan could be headstrong and stubborn at times, but often that stubbornness manifested itself as determination and iron will. Most of the time, that's what saved the victims.

"I Love you!" Garcia called after Morgan and Hotch had to give a wry smile at that. If only Strauss was there to hear that, they wouldn't be going to Salem at all.

* * *

><p>It wasn't all that often that all of them go to go anywhere on the jet together. Usually, Garcia was able to stay at Quantico and speak to them via a video coms link, but Hotch wanted her here this time and here she was, curled up on the sofa with her laptop perched on the arm, typing furiously. She had Morgan's hoodie draped over her, feeling the cool while the male agent obviously felt the heat. Hotch took a look around his team, It was just after six in the morning and they all looked like death. Morgan was settled beside Garcia, reading over the victims' files, J.J and Prentiss were sitting together doing the same thing, Rossi had taken to sitting by himself at the single seats with the files in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other and Spencer was sitting with the girls.<p>

Hotch stood from the corner he'd been sitting in and made his way over to the table where the girls were, waiting for everyone else to follow his lead and make they're way over to the little area. "So, lets go over what we know so far." Hotch opened the manila case file and waited for them all to settle. This wasn't about briefing anyone, anymore. This was where things really came to a head. This was a working profile.

"Alice Parker, Sarah Wildes, Susannah Martin and Martha Carrier were all in their mid to late twenties, blonde haired, blue eyed and all practised alternative therapies such as Reiki and Reflexology. No mental health records for any of the victims, all had clean bills of health, no financial worries. These women were all hardworking and independent." Prentiss sighed, looking at the images of the victims again, there was a sadness in her dark eyes, the emotion attached was something that everyone had become accustomed to. These girls were brutally taken from the world needlessly and far too soon.

"All were tortured and burned to death but no sign of sexual assault. There was a card left with each victim with a quote from The Crucible on it. The card was expensive, elegant and handwritten." Morgan chipped in.

"Was the paper handmade?" Reid asked, "Because we could trace the handwriting by narrowing down people have had lessons in calligraphy, because this is beautiful, taught. Someone couldn't have just picked up a pen and done this."

"Garcia-"

"Checking Salem for anyone who could possibly have come into contact with the victims and who have had calligraphy lessons. Should I set parameters or just anyone who has ever had lessons?" Garcia asked, fingers poised on her keyboard.

"Just anyone right now, we'll be able to narrow down the list when it comes to it." Rossi suggest and Garcia gave a curt nod before turning back to the keyboard and typing furiously.

"The quote with Alice Parker was '_I never knew the lying lessons I was taught by all these Christian women and their covenanted men! And now you bid me tear the light out of my eyes? I will not, I cannot! You loved me, John Proctor, and whatever sin it is, you love me yet!__'__. _In the play, Abigail is having an affair with Proctor and won't let him go back to his wife." Reid looked at the notes again, something clearly bothering him about the quotes.

"Was Alice Parker seeing anyone?" Rossi asked, looking to Garcia for any addition information she may have been able to dig up on the victims, having to say the woman's name three times before she looked up at him and he repeated the question.

"Not that I know of, she kept a blog but never mentioned anything about seeing anyone and she was pretty out there. I mean, she talked about that certain time of month when women-"

"Woah, pump your breaks." Morgan looked at her, a mix between shock and disgust on his face. "Just cause she wrote about it, baby girl, doesn't mean you have to tell us about it."

"Well, I'm just making a point. She gets way personal, but never mentions a boyfriend or a love life at all for that matter."

"Prentiss, ask around when we land about anyone she might have been seeing secretly or casually. Ask about the men in her life, did she live with anyone, that kind of thing." Rossi instructed looking at the brunette who nodded in turn.

"What about the Second Victim, Sarah Wildes? What was her quote?"

"Uh, _we live no longer in the dusky afternoon when evil mixed itself with good and befuddled the world. Now, by God__'__s grace, the shining sun is up, and them that fear not light will surely praise it._" J.J read from the case files, looking expectantly to Reid for an explanation. Hotch raised an eyebrow at that, almost amused at the fact that everyone was now turning to the young genius as an out to actually thinking back to high school to work out what the quotation meant.

"When evil mixed with good and befuddled the world." Reid repeated, thoughtfully and Hotch had to admit he was a little disappointed. The reasoning behind this one was as obvious as the first, the fact that Reid was doubting himself right now really did make all of the difference to this team. "The unsub is almost a vigilante believing that they're ridding the world of evil. I don't want to throw in religious motives, but that's what it looks like. We should find out if Sarah was affiliated with any sort of religious group." _Not exactly what I was looking for,_ Hotch mused. Although the religious connotations were prevalent, it didn't necessarily mean that Sarah was religious, merely that the unsub was, or at least had been brought up with religion.

"Susannah Martin's quote is interesting." Garcia began, clearly latching on to something the young man had said. Garcia may not be a profiler but she was always exactly who they needed her to be, exactly when they needed it. "_A man may think God sleeps, but God sees everything, I know it now. I beg you, sir, I beg you__—__see her what she is. . . . She thinks to dance with me on my wife__'__s grave! And well she might, for I thought of her softly. God help me, I lusted, and there is a promise in such sweat. But it is a whore__'__s vengeance._" Garcia looked at Reid before continuing. "It's Proctor in reference to the affair again." There was a bright smile on the woman's face, something that the team were accustomed to from her. They needed a lift, she would provide it. They needed information to break the case, there she was. Hotch couldn't think of anyone else who could do her job, even Lynch had struggled a little while she was recovering from bring shot. This team was a mess without Penelope Garcia.

"Sins of the Flesh. Could we be looking for a jealous wife?" Rossi looked at Hotch, pulling him from his train of thought and back into the investigation.

"And nothing is worse than a woman scorned." Morgan said sagely as he looked up from his file at the sound of the girls giggling and Rossi's indignant snort. "What?"

"You'd know all about woman and being scorned, huh?" Prentiss winked at him and Morgan rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Emily, women love me."

"Uh-huh."

"I-"

"Fourth Victim." Hotch interrupted the banter, earning a smirk from Morgan and a scowl from Prentiss. He liked their bantering, it meant that there was some form of acceptance there. Forgiveness. It meant that Morgan was allowing Emily back into that trust that she had had before and that Prentiss was more than grateful. It meant moving on and that's all that Hotch could ask for given the current circumstances. That the baby steps they were making would soon bring them up to stride and back onto the path they were on before Doyle. Before the trust was broken and the months of depilating self doubt and guilt settled themselves on Morgan's shoulders. Things were on they're way to normal.

"Fourth Victim was the youngest. Martha Carrier, she had just started at the practise six months ago. The quote left with her was _'__It is her dearest hope, I know it. There be a thousand names; why does she call mine? There be a certain danger in calling such a name.__'_" Garcia read from the screen in front of her again; "This is when Abigail calls Proctor's wife a witch, right?"

"Yeah," Reid nodded. "This suggests that Martha knew who the killer was and was going to turn them in."

"Garcia, check Martha's phone records and find out if she called the police recently, or just check if she visited the police station." Hotch instructed. He liked this part the best, when they got all of the ideas rolling, it was really when they were at their best.

"It'll take some time." Garcia announced as she moved the laptop and got up, moving away from the group to work in peace, back to where she was originally curled up on the little couch, taking Morgan's hoodie with her again and burrowing under it. Probably for comfort as well as heat, the biggest sign that they were an hour into this case and it was already getting to her.

"I'm definitely thinking Female Unsub here," Morgan announced to the group, sitting himself up properly from the slouched position he was in; clearly ready to defend his position to the group. "Methodical, someone who identifies with the Abigail character, she's killing women who apparently cheat, not men. The way she tortures them and the card? It's too organised to be a male unsub on a psychotic break."

"But women are methodical, precise and tend to be less messy. There aren't many messier ways to kill someone than burning them to death." Prentiss pointed out, although her behaviour suggested that she was indeed onboard with Morgan's idea, she was just making sure all of the bases were covered. Elimination was the best chance of success when it came to cases like these.

"But everything else does point to a female unsub." Rossi interjected, from where he was sitting beside Hotch, always willing to pick a side early on when it came to this game they all seemed to play.

"We could have multiple unsubs." Reid suggested pausing for thought before continuing, "The female is obviously the dominant one, she tortures the victims and the less dominant male kills them." Hotch looked around the team, waiting for someone else to speak up, it was always interesting in these types of cases to see how everyone in the group saw the idea of multiple unsubs.

"What if there's only one unsub?" Garcia's voice piped in from the background, causing everyone to turn around. Not who Hotch was expecting to throw in a suggestion, but it was welcomed all the same.

"Go on." Morgan prompted, giving Garcia a reassuring smile and there it was again; Morgan being that rock for Garcia as she ventured into actively helping to provide a profile for the first time.

"Well, what if the female is torturing her victims by burning them at the stake?" Garcia bit her lip and waited, although she could follow her own train of thought, her insecurity at the other's not being able to showed through. "She's sadistic, she likes to watch her victims suffer, that's the ultimate way in this case."

"She could be right, we're too caught up in the profile of a female serial killer that we can't see what's glaringly obvious." Prentiss pointed out, looking to Hotch for his response. "She's looking for the ultimate torture. Inflicting the same pain on those women as she felt. Making them pay for their actions, as though she couldn't take it out on the person who cheated with the person she was with."

"Garcia, we have a parameter for you." J.J grinned at her fellow blonde, who beamed back.

"Running divorces and any other messy break ups I can find where another person has been involved and cross matching with calligraphy lessons." Garcia smiled at them before going back to her laptop and typing again, blocking them out of her own little world again, like she had hung up the phone on them.

"We should profile the unsub as a sadist. A female, with the possibility that she has a male counter part, just to keep all options open." Hotch decided, looking around his team for any questions.

"Should we run two separate profiles then?" Rossi asked, voicing the thoughts of the team.

"Yes." Hotch nodded. "Morgan, Prentiss, you work on the two unsub theory and Reid and Rossi you cover the single female unsub theory. J.J cover the press on this one, make sure that there are no leaks of any of this kind of information, we can't have the unsub feeling as though he's under any kind of pressure. I'll go back over some of the other crime scene photos, see If I can come up with anything else." Hotch nodded at his team and watched them getting to work, switching seats and moving away from the group to work on their profiles and finding this unsub as quickly as possible. Hotch followed their leads moving to sit back in an available seat, leaving his team to work on their profiles without feeling that someone was looking over their every move for once in a very long time.

* * *

><p>Agent Hotchner glanced at his watch as he made his way off of the jet behind his team, taking a mental note to call Jack and check in on him. It was a little before nine and his son would already be in school, without having spent much time with his dad in almost ten days. Hotch hated leaving his son for his job, hating that it had torn his life apart even before Foyet had gotten to Hailey. He wanted to see his son grow up and not miss out on the little things. He wasn't even around yet his son had still dressed up as his dad for Halloween, calling him a superhero. Hotch wanted nothing more right then to about turn and climb back into the jet, asking them to take him home.<p>

"Hotch." Morgan, who had been one of the first off of he plane now had his and Garcai's Go Bags in hand, nodded towards the man that was fast approaching them, flanked by two uniformed officers. "We have a welcoming committee." Morgan half joked, but the underlying dread was there, was there another victim? Were they too late to save another woman from the torture?

"I'm Detective Mercer of Salem P.D, I'm sorry you guys have a wasted trip." The man's voice had a distinctive twang to it. He wasn't from Massachusetts, probably southern Texas if the drawl was anything to go by. Hotch felt the hope flare in his chest a little bit, maybe he would be able to go home and get his boy.

"How is it wasted?" Morgan asked slight tone of annoyance in his voice which proved Hotch's early theory; the agent had just managed to sleep when the call came in. Nevertheless Morgan stopped on the tarmac and waited his turn to shake the detective's hand after Hotch who introduced the team. "We have the bitch in custody." Detective Mercer grinned, a smug sort of grin that you would expect from someone who hated authority, not someone who was in it. It conveyed the unspoken '_without the FBI's help_' that Hotch was sure it was deliberately implied.

"Oh." J.J looked a little bemused, standing beside Rossi and Prentiss as she looked at the two officers with him. The distress call had come in a little over 4 hours ago, the chances that they'd caught a sadistic, methodical serial killer in that time when they didn't know who they were looking for was somewhere in the range of 'miracle'.

"Yeah, one of our junior detectives has read all of Agent Rossi's books and thought that we should be looking for someone who was jealous, had access to all the women and didn't live locally. We found someone who fit the profile. She'd argued with Alice prior to her death, she has no alibi for any of the murders and she frequents the treatment centre whenever she's in town."

"Well, that's great." Rossi smiled at Mercer before sharing a knowing look with Hotch. The only part of the profile they had gotten right was the fact that it was a jealous woman. There was no mention of psychotic break and the woman definitely had to be Local to know all of the woodland areas, especially the secluded areas where the bodies were found. "Would you mind if we have a chat with her, anyway?" Rossi fired a charming smile at the man, obviously making sure they go their foot in the door with this one. It was no use being nasty to them, especially when they seemed a little peeved that the FBI were there in the first place.

"Of course not," Mercer grinned, opening his mouth to say something before his cell rang and diverted his attention. "Excuse me." He smiled at them again, waving the ringing cell at them as he walked away. Hotch hoped that it wasn't the precinct calling to inform them of another victim, there clearly had to be a limit to how many people were working at that specific centre, they had to keep everyone else safe.

"How long ago did you bring her in for questioning?" Agent Prentiss asked one of the remaining officers as she looked at her watch, obviously on train with everyone else's thoughts. They'd brought in the wrong person, probably, which would lead the actual unsub into upping her usual pattern, something that they hadn't yet been able to establish. The unsub's killing pattern was practically non-existent. Sometimes she kept her victims for a few weeks, a few days a few hours but the time didn't lessen or get longer, it just depended on the victim.

"About half an hour ago, just before we left to come and get you." The officer grinned, looking Prentiss up and down. Hotch watched Rossi and Morgan roll their eyes. There was no way they'd caught the unsub. It was too fast. Even for them. Unless she wanted to be caught that was, which meant the killings were over.

"So, how did you track her down?" Agent Morgan asked just as Detective Mercer began to yell down the receiver, forcing all nine other people to turn to look at the man, something was clearly wrong. The little control Mercer had over his accent was gone and now all of his letters were slurring together into one big word. Hotch felt the hope diminish in his chest, the thought of staying here to deal with this a little overwhelming. Yes, he loved his job. But that didn't mean he had to love being away from his son for long periods of time.

"She's _what?_!" Mercer yelled again, causing more than a few raised eyebrows in the gathered group, even some from the men who were currently moving the FBI equipment from the plane to the waiting SUVs. "Do not do anything until I get there, understood? The FBI are _here_."

"Everything alright?" Rossi asked, watching as the detective slammed the cell shut and made his way over to them. Hotch wanted to warn Dave outright that he really shouldn't be the one with a smug grin on his face right now, but he figured it wouldn't do any good. The situation was tense enough as it was, he couldn't afford Rossi to be the one to get them into any trouble with the local police department, especially as he was the one who had gotten them in the door, anyway.

"This is bigger than we thought. The suspect we brought into custody is one of yours." Mercer looked both deflated and disgusted. An officer of the Law going on a killing spree wasn't all that uncommon, Reid would probably know the exact statistics and they would definitely have the know how of how to avoid being caught. The only thing that bothered Hotch though was the way Mercer said '_one of yours'._

"One of ours?" Dr. Spencer Reid raised an eyebrow at the officer, voicing the thoughts of the rest of the group.

"Yeah, she says she's an FBI agent. They're searching her apartment now for the credentials she claims are there." Mercer stared walking towards his car. Hotch watched his Agent's reactions; there was a good mix of eye rolling and sighing, shaking of heads. He wanted to get to the bottom of this, and fast. Mercer clearly didn't trust the FBI as it were, but throw in an FBI Agent who fit the profile that they'd thought up? Co-operation was going to be a hard thing to get from them.

"Does she have a name?" Hotch called after him, walking towards the two waiting SUV's with his bag. It was almost an afterthought, but if she really was the unsub, Hotch didn't want to be calling her an Agent.

"Sloane Sanderson. Does that mean anything to you?" Mercer stopped and turned to them, raising an eyebrow. "Because you guys got here awfully fast." There it was. The accusation. The one thing that was the final nail in the coffin of co-operation. This was going to be one long case.

"We didn't know there was another agent involved." Hotchner protested, ignoring he disbelieving snort from Mercer "We would have gotten here at the same time regardless of who was involved."

"Do you know her?" Mercer asked again, standing with his hands on his hips, baring his badge and his gun. It was showman ship. Hotchner had 6 other agents with him, five of whom carried guns. The detective had two men, both of whom were still behind Hotch, it was a no-brainer who would win in a shoot out.

"No." Hotch answered honestly, the name had never crossed his desk nor his working relationships. He could only speak for himself, though, he rationalised as he looked to his team for their answers. At the shake of their heads he turned back to the detective and pointedly raised an eyebrow. Mercer threw his hands up and turned back in the direction of the cars, closely followed by the two officers who gave the team apologetic smiles.

"This is gonna be a long case." Morgan sighed as he caught up with Hotch, carrying both his and Penelope's bags as the blonde hurried along the tarmac with the other two girls, the silence almost deafening.

"Garcia." Hotch turned around abruptly, almost causing the blonde to walk right into him.

"Sir?"

"Go to the hotel, check us all in and while you're at it, run the name Sloane Sanderson and see if anything comes up. Then come meet us at the precinct."

"Yes, sir." Garcia nodded, heading for the SUVs with Prentiss, J.J and Reid as Morgan stopped along side Hotch. The younger man looked at him, a completely unreadable expression on his face before walking again, leaving Hotch slightly bewildered at his expression.

"I have a feeling we'll be here longer than we thought." Rossi told the two men as he caught up with them, smiling sympathetically at Morgan when the younger men let out a weary sigh and shook his head, heading to the waiting SUV to help load their Go Bags into one and their Equipment into another.

"I'll go with Garcia, help her get everything into our rooms. It should go faster if there's two of us." Morgan told them as he tossed his own Go Bag into the back of the SUV before carefully taking everyone else's and loading them in gently.

"I think I'll ride with him." Rossi tilted his head in the direction of the still irate detective after he handed his bag to Morgan. "See if I can try and get some form of cooperation back." Hotch simply nodded at the other man and watched him walk away.

"Come on, Pretty Boy." Morgan threw an arm round Reid's shoulders, "you can ride with Penelope and I and we'll drop you off at the station before heading to the hotel, alright?"

"I could just stay and help." Reid looked at Morgan, an innocence still in his eyes that every other member of the team had lost a very long time.

"It's fine, they'll need you more than we do. It's a couple of bags, nothing I can't handle." Morgan flashed a smile at the younger man before opening the door for Garcia. Hotch watched as his team filed into the different cars, once again lamenting not being able to see his son for however long this was going to take.

* * *

><p>Sloane Sanderson sat with her head in her hands, her golden brown hair scraped back into a messy bun, plastic black framed glasses settling on her lightly tanned face. Forty five minutes earlier, a SWAT team and police officers wearing protective vests had burst into her hotel room and dragged her to the floor, reading her her rights as the handcuffed her and roughly pulled her to her feet. Sloane was sure she had carpet burn on her knees from where her denim skirt hadn't quite covered them as she was thrown to the floor, but her whole leg was a bit red right now. Her shoulder felt a little sore, too, from where they had held her down. She'd tried to tell them that she was an FBI Agent. Tried to make them listen to where her credentials were, but they weren't having it.<p>

Some Junior Detective Anderson or something was too caught up in his first big arrest to pay any attention to what she was telling them. She'd been a beat cop, too, not so long ago and she understood, she did, but there was no reason not to listen to someone you were arresting. Sloane looked around again, trying to get the feel of her surroundings, possible weapons and exit strategies flying through her mind due to years of training. At thirty four years old she was much wiser than the last time she had been in here. Twenty years wiser and tonne more experienced. She could handle herself now, she didn't need her Daddy to come in and talk the local law enforcement out of pressing charges.

There was a noise from outside. A chair being scrapped along the floor followed by two dull thuds. "Son of a Bitch." Sloane muttered under her breath before letting out an indignant snort. Falsely arresting someone was one thing, but watching them like a caged animal? That wasn't on.

"Hey. Hey!" She yelled, pushing away from the table and getting up from the chair before walking over to the two way mirror and leaning against it, trying to peer through. Sloane knew there was a way to see through these things, if the light caught it the right way you could see shadows. "I know you're in there. We taught you this bullshit." Sloane let out an irritated sigh and gave up.

Being an FBI agent, she knew all the tricks of the trade. Hell, she'd delivered some of these seminars to local officials, taught them how to interrogate suspects. Never once had it occurred to her that she'd be the one on the receiving end of it. She turned her back to the mirror, giving them a clear view of the three tattoos she had on her back; two on her shoulders and the lion in the middle of her spine. On another sigh, she walked over to the empty boxes sitting on the table. "we taught you this, too." she muttered to herself as she opened them and upturned them, scattering papers everywhere. Most of the sheets blank. "morons."

She still had her one phone call, knowing that they would find her credentials and call the bureau for her. Sloane hadn't felt the need to call anyone, she wasn't guilty of anything and this would be all cleared up soon enough. She was also still entitled to a lawyer, which should probably be her phone call, but she'd hold out for as long as possible, they wouldn't be able to break her over something that she had no idea had happened.

"My husband is a lawyer. I'm an FBI agent. I know my rights." Sloane told the person on the other side of the glass before sitting down heavily into the chair. "Well, on the plus side," she muttered to herself, "Least I know that these tactics actually work. It'll help me get inside future unsubs' heads." Sloane tapped out the rhythm to _Always look on the Bright Side of Life_ on the table while looking around the room, trying to gain some sort of advantage. She mainly wanted to know who was behind the glass, though. She knew they'd have someone there, watching her, but whether it was a beat cop or a detective was measured by how dangerous they thought she was.

Sloane sighed again and pulled the hair tie out of her hair, the messy golden curls falling about her face as she rested her head on her arms. She was too tired for this. She'd been working a case in Boston and had driven to Salem to spend a quiet weekend with her husband, only to have him call and cancel at the last minute, a case being too important for him to spend two days and two nights with his wife. She wasn't going to miss the opportunity of a weekend of pampering though, she did deserve that much.

Sloane reached over and opened the case file of the victims that the detective had left on top of one of the boxes. She closed her eyes against the image of one of the victims, burned and beaten and left tied up in the woods. Sloane continued to read the file and gather up some of the sheets of paper that were scattered on the floor. She felt sick at the thought of these women being dead, but she didn't do it. In fact, aside from the training in alternative therapy and the ring on her left hand ring finger, she could be one of these victims. It was then Sloane made her decision, one that she was 95% sure that her superior back in Boston would kill her for later; If she was going to be stuck here in this room for the next 72 hours, she was going to do something worth while.

"Hey, officer." Sloane called out, as she turned to face the glass, "Can I get a pen and some sticky tape?"

* * *

><p>Prentiss, Reid and J.J followed Rossi and Detective Mercer into the precinct, wheeling theirs and Garcia's equipment behind them. Hotch stopped outside to call Hailey's sister and leave a message for Jack, it was quick and simple; just telling him that he missed him and he would see him soon. It was wishful thinking, Hotch knew, given the severity of this case, but Jack didn't need to be made aware of the complete gruesomeness of the world. He just needed to know that evil was out there, and that his Daddy would protect him from it.<p>

"I set aside the conference room for you, as per Agent Jareau's request. Although I don't see why you need all that equipment for a simple interview." Hotch heard Mercer grit out and watched as Mercer pointedly ignoring the looks the female agents drew him. Apparently there had been a silent pact made that the women disliked the detective and were going to show him at every possible turn. Rossi seemed to have taken issue with the man, too and Hotch could only begin to imagine what Mercer could have said to peeve Dave off.

"Uh, sir. We have a problem." A young uniformed officer approached the group just as Hotch did, although he seemed to keep his distance from the Detective, a defensive measure. He was nervous.

"Oh what now?" Mercer snapped at the kid, his hands back on his hips again, his accent back.

"You should probably come and see." The officer's embarrassment was evident, even to anyone in the room who wasn't a profiler and there were people around who were now paying more attention to this conversation than they should be. "They should probably come, too, sir." The officer's voice was barely audible and Reid looked at Prentiss who simply raised an eyebrow at him. It was almost like they were connected with some sort of invisible wire, Hotch mused, as the thoughts seemed to race from one agent's head to another and back again, communicating in a silent language only people who worked this closely together for this period of time could speak.

"Did you let her escape?" Mercer demanded, stepping towards the officer and rearing up to his full height, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest. Rossi huffed out at breath and put his arm between the two men, pointedly glaring at the detective.

"N-no, sir." The officer shook his head quickly before turning on his heel and briskly walking towards the interview room door, followed closely by Mercer and the team. The officer paused at the door and let out a small huff of a breath before opening the door to reveal the room strewn with paper, the two way glass serving as a makeshift board for the victims and pictures and crime scene photos.

"Oh, thank God." A female voice announced from the other side of the room, stumbling over the different piles of paper she'd laid across the floor and coming into view. "I was beginning to think that you'd forgotten about me."

"You let our suspect _profile_ the case?" Mercer barged into the room as he yelled at the officer who couldn't meet his eyes, Hotch felt sorry for the kid. As soon as Agent Sloane Sanderson came into view Hotch couldn't deny he knew exactly why the kid had been so willing to drop everything and do as she asked. It wasn't the golden blonde curls nor the low cut sweater nor her massive green eyes nor her tanned skin nor her long legs. She simply oozed authority and control, even when she was in her every day clothes. She was definitely an FBI agent, but she was more than that. This was years of training, years of conditioning that brought this kind of raw power to her. Hotch could tell she wasn't the unsub right away; if someone had pissed her off? She was too controlled to kill anyone but her victim.

"Don't yell at him you jackass." Sloane interrupted, causing an immediate reaction in Mercer as he stomped further into the room, hiw shoulders squared once again. Hotch couldn't help but follow him in, eyes darting around the room at the profile Sloane had managed to build in such a short space of time. It was impressive, really. "It's hardly his fault _you_ arrested the wrong woman."

"See here, missy." Mercer began, walking over to her and snatching the pen out of her hand, almost elbowing a very curious Dr. Reid who had followed Hotch into the room and right over to the wall where she had began to try and link the victims. Hotch watched as Mercer stood directly in front of the brunette, towering over her smaller frame but he also watched as Sloane rose up to her full height, facing Mercer dead on and looking him in the eye.

"Don't you _see here, missy_, me." Sloane spat, evidently up for the fight. Aggression. Ex-military. Organised. Hotch knew Prentiss and Rossi were both profiling the Agent Sanderson, even though they tended not to profile other law officials, she was hard not to profile. "I outrank every single person in this goddamned station. When my badge and gun get here? I'm calling my superior in Boston and you're in for a very, very rude awaking. I'm doing you a damned favour, right now."

"Agent Sanderson?" Rossi butted in, offering a small smile Sloane's way, clearly trying to defuse the situation before Mercer really did have something to arrest the agent for. She reminded Hotch a little bit of Morgan in the way that she stood up to the officer, clenching her jaw, showing him she wasn't afraid. Her tone of voice was just like Prentiss when she was put in situations of conflict, even but angry. Hotch watched as J.J smiled from the doorway, clearly reading her boss' mind. This woman in front of them was a little bit like everyone on his team. She really could be described as one of theirs.

"Agent Rossi. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." Sloane smiled brightly, her tone and whole demeanour changing dramatically. She was warm and open and friendly as she side stepped Mercer to walk over and shake Rossi's hand. "You must be the BAU?"

"Yeah, that's us. Emily Prentiss." Prentiss smiled at the woman, who smiled back broadly before reaching out to shake her hand, too. Much to the dismay of Mercer.

"I'm Agent Hotchner." Hotch held out his hand to the brunette, a little surprised at the strength in her handshake, before taking a step further into the room to allow J.J to enter. "That is Dr. Spencer Reid," Hotch indicated the other man in the room who seemed completely sucked into the basic profile she had on the wall. "And that is Agent Jareau."

"J.J." Jennifer corrected as the women shook hands before Mercer grabbed hold of Sloane's arm and dragged her back into the room, almost injuring Reid when the female agent yanked her arm from his grasp, missing the genius' head by a small margin.

"Well, it appears you're knowledge will certainly be useful in this case." Hotch nodded as he took in the profile, clearly impressed by the organisation and the work. It wasn't often they could walk into a case where some of the leg work had been done and laid out properly for them. Of course it was only vague ideas but they were definite areas of exploration. She'd even managed to profile the possibility of multiple unsubs into her working profile.

"Of course it will, she killed them." Mercer said incredulously, glaring at Sloane when she let out an incredulous snort. "She's my key suspect and you're working with her on the case, I knew the FBI would protect it's own."

"Detective Mercer, with all due respect." J.J began, looking at Hotch and Rossi for support when the detective turned a heated glare on her, challenging her to keep speaking to him. J.J didn't usually back down, but Hotch knew she was their link to the police force and the press on this case, so she needed to be able to keep her cool and keep everyone onside.

"We're not protecting our own. You're profile while heading in the right direction isn't 100% accurate." Hotch stepped in between the detective and his agent. "Agent Sanderson didn't kill these women. More than likely it was a local, someone who knew these women well enough to know their personal background. Sanderson doesn't fit that part of the profile."

"She's in and out of town all the time, she knows a lot of people here!" Mercer argued and Hotch held up a hand to silence Sloane when she opened her mouth to protest. Hotch had to admit that he was surprised when the Agent did as he asked, rolling her eyes and shaking her head but staying quiet all the same.

"Yes, but that doesn't give her personal knowledge of the victims."

"She argued with Alice Parker three days before she died."

"Because the woman double booked my appointment with someone else and refused to refund me my deposit." Hotch wanted to try and stop Sloane before she said something that could incriminate her, but she knew there was obviously no stopping her now. " YOu haven't even taken a statement from me. You've done nothing!" Sloane approached the Detective but kept a social distance, her hands on her hips as she looked the man up and down. "I was trying to tell your men that I was an FBI Agent back at the hotel but they wouldn't listen. I wasn't even in town when she was killed. I'll get you my credit card bill and my phone records so you can see where I was. Hell, I'm sure I can even get CCTV footage of me nowhere near Salem when any of these murders were going on." Sloane clenched her jaw and Mercer let his chin fall to his chest, defeated by the young woman's obvious knowledge of the police force, being able to provide herself with all sort of unshakable alibi's before any questions were even asked properly.

"Sir," a uniformed officer stepped into the room with Sloane's Badge and gun, along with her holster in evidence bags. Hotch raised his eyebrow at the Springfield Professional model .45 in the holster. It was usually used for protection detail or SWAT members, but he hadn't seen an Agent carry one before.

"Hand them over." Mercer told them, as he pushed through the people gathered without sparing a glance at the uniformed officer or the Agent who was currently slipping into her holster. "You better get set up, Hotchner, there's a serial killer on the loose." And with that, Mercer left the room before he began yelling orders to the officers who had stopped what they were doing when the argument had started.

"I don't know how much help I have been or could be but I have a working profile." Sloane shrugged as she tucked her credentials into her back pocket. "You obviously have more access to documents than I do right now, so this is more thought and theory than actual evidence." Sloane stepped back to take a look at the wall, a small smile ghosting her full lips.

"Well, someone's been busy." Rossi looked at Sloane again who blushed slightly, the confidence that she exuded earlier vanishing a little, the cracks of insecurity in her mask showing.

"I had some time." She shrugged. "There's not much of a connection between the victims aside from where they worked. I specialise in torture and kidnap. It's my field in the Special Victims Unit." Sloane told them as she stepped back to look at the profile on the wall again. "If there's anyway I can help, let me know."

"Well, torture seems to be this unsub's game." Prentiss looked at Hotch and Rossi, once again proving that you really could know someone well enough to know what they were thinking if you just spent enough time together. "So you're expertise could come in handy."

"Let's get to work." Sloane smiled brightly, finally catching Reid's eye, her smile widening when the man stumbled over his hello and turned wide eyed to Hotch.

"We should transfer this into the other room; There's more space there." Hotch began picking up the little pieces of scribbled notes she had, all the while watching Spencer regarding the brunette as she did the same thing as Hotch was doing, sorting them into piles of importance. Something had obviously clicked in Reid's mind as he was reading the notes she had on the wall and he was enamoured by her. Hotch raised an eyebrow as the Genius turned wordlessly back to the wall. Apparently there was more to Agent Sloane Sanderson than met the eye.

* * *

><p>Morgan tapped the steering wheel as he manoeuvred them through the streets of Salem. It wasn't a massive city by any means, but you could still easily get lost. His head hurt, his body hurt and he was tired. Not that he would admit it to anyone, he couldn't admit it to anyone. Morgan knew he had to keep up the front that he was alright; everyone else was dealing with some other issue and he had to keep things together for their sake.<p>

Morgan tapped the steering wheel of the car to the beat that was in his head, the past few cases really taking their toll on him. His mother had called, worried when he hadn't been the one to call in a few days. He'd give anything to be back in Chicago at his mother's place right now, just to have her talk to him like she used to do when he was a kid and he was frightened and alone. Even when she didn't know anything that was going on, she still knew how to make it better. It was the one thing he was glad that he'd picked up from her. Morgan gave a small smile, not that he was fantastic at making everyone feel great around him but he'd worked it into his defence mechanism a long time ago. His flight or flight response was almost to make everyone around him feel good in order for them to forget that he had problems, too. Morgan looked to his right, he could feel the nervousness coming from Penelope in waves, clearly bothered by something.

"What's going on with you, Baby Girl?" He asked gently, his eyes flicking between Penelope Garcia and the road ahead, wanting to fix whatever was hurting her, needing her to be strong for him right now, needing her Solace from himself. She might not be able to fix everything, but Morgan loved the woman for giving him somewhere to go when things got heavy. It might just be a movie and some drinks, but it was better than anything else he'd had in a while.

"Nothing, I'm alright." Garcia told him, no real conviction in her voice which made the agent frown. It had been a few weeks since Garcia had turned Kevin down and she hadn't been right ever since. Even their banter was limited to only pet names; not much sass, not much of anything.

"Come on, talk to me." Morgan reached out and rested his wrist on her shoulder, just enough for him to be able to stroke her cheek. "Don't start shutting me out, now, sweetheart. That's my job." Morgan grinned at the half smile Garcia gave him, she knew him better than anyone else and could read him much better than most of the profilers in the bullpen. It was nice that he didn't have to be anyone else around her, but it was his job to keep her smiling, to keep her happy. And that was something SSA Derek Morgan took very seriously.

"I've screwed it up with Kevin. I just. I'm not ready and he is. How is that even possible?" Penelope turned sad eyes to Morgan, leaning into his touch just a little bit before continuing on her rant. "I mean, you said it yourself, he's a great guy and I love him, I do but how can I love someone this much and not be ready to spend my life with him? I can't imagine being with someone else so why can't I imagine being married to him?" the tears that had been clouding Garcia's eyes were falling freely down her cheeks and Morgan did his best to wipe some of them away, but when you're trying to manoeuvre an SUV, it's not the easier task in the world.

"Because sometimes you have the right person but it's the wrong time. Sometimes it's the right time but the wrong person. Life is funny like that, Garcia." Morgan told her gently, trying desperately to make things better for the sunlight of his life, because without her being his bright and vibrant princess for him to escape to on a daily basis, he knew he'd go insane. She gave him someone to come back to, she was the main reason he didn't quit his job when Prentiss died, or went into hiding whatever J.J and Hotch were calling it. Garcia and Reid. He knew neither of them could deal with someone else walking away and he was pretty sure he couldn't live with that person being him.

"If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours forever; if they don't they never were." Garcia said miserably, turning away from Morgan to look out of the passenger window again as though she'd remembered that she shouldn't be within reach of him, some sort of boundary she was only now setting up between them.

"Have you spoken to him?" Morgan asked, although he withdrew his hand, respecting her need for space and turning his eyes back to the road, concentrating on getting them there safely and making her feel better instead of the pain working its way through his chest. Garcia asking for him to back off, even if she didn't say it, stung more than the odd rejection he got when he was out on the pull.

"He won't take my calls."

"Just give him some time, he needs space to think, too."

"I know, but he was so hurt, Derek." Morgan looked at the Technical Analyst at her use of his first name. She never, ever did that unless she was really desperate. He wanted to make it better for her, to take the pain for her, he was used to handling hurt anyway, he had his coping mechanisms, but he knew he couldn't and he was stuck for words trying to make it better for her, too.

"Baby Girl.." Morgan trailed off as he turned into the precinct parking lot. "Just, give him some time and then talk to him. Email him. Write to him. Hack into his PC and communicate using that secret hacker's speak thing. Just find out what you want first and let him do the same thing, alright?" Morgan put the SUV into park before turning fully to face Garcia. "But I need you to do something for me." Morgan rested his hand on hers, not holding on, but just touching. He wasn't sure he would get through this case without reaching out just a little bit to someone and that someone could only be his Baby Girl.

"What?" Garcia looked at Morgan, unconsciously taking his hand, unknowing the warmth that spread through him when her fingers clasped onto his.

"Smile for me. I need some of that sunshine in my life right now." He told her, grinning when Garcia gave him one of her best smiles, if he had only learned one thing about Penelope Garcia it was this; she loved to mke other people happy. It was one of the things that drew him to her in the first place, he knew he could count on her to make him smile and that was what he needed right now. What they both need. "I bet you feel better for that, don't you."

"Have I ever told you how much I hate profilers?"

"Every day its implied." Morgan grinned at her, leaning over to place a kiss on her hair. "Now come on, we have an FBI agent in custody and a serial killer possibly still on the loose."

* * *

><p>Hotch watched as Sloane finished tacking up her notes, having condensed them into four pages per victim. She'd put the little information she knew about the victims onto one page, things she had picked up from them while she was getting sessions.<p>

"I'm sorry I don't know more." Sloane smiled apologetically as she settled down against the table, picking up her cup of coffee and taking a sip. She had also drew rough plans of the three treatment rooms she had been in, labelled with possible entrances and exits to avoid the security cameras and the alarms on the windows. Prentiss and J.J had briefed her on what they had come up with on the jet as they put their own information on the boards.

"No, you've been plenty help." Reid beamed at her and Sloane smiled back, she wasn't overtly displaying her confidence anymore, she looked relaxed and ready to work. Her head was in the game and Hotch could appropriate that. Sloane was obviously taking a step back so as not to intrude on the way they ran things; she was used to being in both positions or authority but also used to being part of a team. Hotch knew he should stop profiling her now that they were working together and he had Garcia already running a background check on her anyway and she had been cleared of any wrong doing, but he couldn't help it. The woman had managed to build half of a working profile while locked in an interview room with nothing but the case files of the victims and the little knowledge she had about the area.

"So are we looking at a recent affair or some past childhood experience that's triggering this unsub?" Sloane asked as she tilted her head to the side, reading when J.J was writing.

"We're not sure. It could be a combination of both, but it is more than likely the unsub is in the middle of a major psychotic break. If it is a childhood experience we need to find out why she's acting on it now, what triggered her into this." Prentiss looked up from the file she was reading to the younger woman who nodded before avidly watching as Prentiss picked up a pen and started to write on the board, too.

"So we're looking for a trigger either way." Sloane mused. "The girls didn't do much chatting when it came to the sessions, the massage therapist wouldn't shut up but the victims… they didn't talk much, so the unsub would have to find out about them in some other way." Hotch watched her features as she became absorbed in thought, knowing that there were another two sets of eyes on her, too. Reid obviously knew something about her from her penmanship and Rossi was trying to figure her out as much as Hotch was himself.

There was something inherently beautiful about her, innocent even, but there was also an air of experience, an air of determination to find out what happened to these girls and to stop it before it happened to someone else. Like she knew how it felt to have your life torn apart. Although that wouldn't be uncommon with someone working in their fields. Everyone got into law enforcement for some reason or another.

"What if the victims were having an affair with someone and confided in the unsub? Maybe the unsub was cheated on previously. That could be her trigger." Sloane spoke softly as though she was simply thinking out loud, but it was enough to make Prentiss and J.J stop writing.

"That's what we were thinking; Prentiss take Sanderson with you to the latest victim's apartment. See if you can find anything that might help us out here." Rossi instructed and both women nodded, Sloane leaning off of the table and draining her coffee from the polystyrene cup and tossing it in the direction of the trash can, smiling victoriously when it went in and giving Reid a little bow when the genius laughed.

"Reid, you and J.J go back and interview the first victim's family and friends again, see what you can dig up, maybe they'll let you into her apartment. Try to get hold of their computers for Garcia to have a look through. That goes for you both as well," Rossi looked over to Prentiss and Sloane as they were pulling on their coats, waiting for an affirmative before continuing. "Hotch and I will go to the second victim's family and friends and do the same thing." Hotch nodded at Rossi and watched the small group began to pack up and move.

"I guess I'm taking the third all alone, then?" Morgan asked as he entered into the conference room and headed straight for the coffee machine, Hotch looked up at the sound of his voice. There was an edge to it that Hotch couldn't place, but it didn't bother him enough to call the agent out on it, not yet anyway. He'd speak to the younger man later, make sure he was alright. Sloane only just turned around when Garcia walked into the room.

"Yeah, well, Hotch you could go with Morgan. Its more recent, there's more than likely some information there that could be useful in profiling this unsub." Rossi nodded at Hotch who got up from where he was, leaning against the counter in the room. Hotch saw Garcia come in with a whole file worth of paper on what he could only assume was Sloane.

"Sir, I got… the uh… stuff you were looking for." Garcia stumbled over the words, clearly noticing the other women in the room, assuming that she was the person whose background she'd just looked into.

"Agent Sanderson this is our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia." Hotch walked over to Garcia and took the file from her before Sloane could get to the woman to shake her hand.

"It's a pleasure," Sloane smiled again and Hotch watched Garcia's cheeks flush pink, probably from embarrassment and guilt, hotch surmised due to the fact that Garcia hated snooping around in people's lives to begin with and Sloane seemed genuinely really nice. Hotch would read the file and get back to Garcia later, making sure to thank her later. He knew he would have to introduce her to Morgan and that would also serve as a good way of getting her attention from Garcia as it was almost obvious that Sloane was trying to work out why the woman had gone so red so quickly.

"and this," Hotch tried to get Sloane's attention, only taking his eyes off of her when she looked at him, to indicate who he was going to be talking about. "Agent Sanderson, is SSA-"

"Derek." Sloane visibly paled at the sight of the only agent she hadn't yet been introduced to, his name falling from her lips in a whispered gasp, a reaction that puzzled Hotch because he'd seen her charming side and her angry side, but the profile he'd built on her so far suggest she was unshakable. Until now.

"Sloane."


	2. White Flag

**A/N:** Sorry chapter two took so long, but fret not, it's not nearly as long as chapter one was. I'd really appreciate your feedback and a massive thanks to those who have reviewed or alerted this story already! So enjoy the chapter and hit the little review button at the bottom, please? Thanks! Kat xo

**Disclaimer**: See chapter one.

* * *

><p><span>White Flag.<span>

_"All of our reasoning ends in surrender to feeling." _- _Blaise Pascal_

Sloane unconsciously pulled her denim jacket around her slender frame and folded her arms, looking the man up and down. It was most definitely Derek Morgan. She hadn't set eyes on him for a little over ten years but he hadn't changed much, gotten a little older, but hadn't everyone? Sloane watched as Derek shut down, his emotionless mask replacing the brief look of hurt and confusion that had passed across his beautiful features. She didn't know what to say, too much time had passed for an apology, but not enough time had passed to brush over it. Sarcasm probably wouldn't work here, either. Sloane was acutely aware of the other six sets of eyes on them, knowing she definitely had to say something, acknowledge the elephant that had taken up residence in the room, state the obvious or it would get more than ugly.

"It's been a while." Sloane swallowed hard, the words catching in her throat and tripping off of her tongue, her whole body a little too warm; guilt and embarrassment bubbling under her skin but she still suppressed a shiver at the cold glare Derek fixed her with.

"Yeah," was all he said in return, taking a drink of his coffee, still staring her down. Sloane couldn't seem to think of anything else to say now. She'd thought about this moment for years, about meeting Derek Morgan again and how things would go down. She had speeches and scenarios planned wherein everything was forgiven, but this, this wasn't one of them and Sloane didn't know how to handle it. Sloane hadn't come up with what she would say or do if she had met him on a case, if she randomly had bumped into him at work or in the office. She didn't even know he was in the FBI, sure she knew he was capable, but that didn't mean that she ever thought he would. Sloane felt the bite of her engagement, wedding and trilogy ring-set cutting into her finger from where it was tucked against her arm. She should probably move her arm before pins and needles set in, but those would be a welcome pain, something to distract her from the pain she was currently in. She'd never meant to hurt him and this was not the time and place to be bringing that up. Not when she was supposed to be working with him to bring in a serial killer with a penchant for burning her victims alive.

"You look good." The words seemed to surprise everyone else in the room judging by the raised eyebrows and everyone making the conscious effort not to look at the speaker. A speaker who seemed especially surprised and Sloane's eyes snapped to Derek's dark orbs. It was a White flag of sorts, he was smoothing things over for her, fixing things as he always had. Sloane felt like she'd been punched in the gut and desperately wanted to hurl.

"You too." She offered him a small smile, "Still doing judo?" It was small talk but at least they were talking. At least they'd moved away from the palpable tension in the room that was eating away at the oxygen and had turned it down to something that was merely an uncomfortable pressure. Something that wouldn't make working with this team, his team, too difficult. Sloane knew what it was like working on a team that worked as closely as they did. Her team in Boston were the same with her, overprotective, even going so far as to avoid talking to her husband if he and Sloane had ever had a fight.

"Yeah, and some other stuff too." Derek's voice wasn't as cold as before, but it was still even, still unforgiving, still not giving anything away. Sloane could accept that, it was more than she deserved, but nothing less than she had expected from Derek.

"You've moved up in the world, Supervisory Special Agent and a BAU profiler?" Sloane asked, a small smiling playing on her lips. She knew there was a serial killer out there who needed to be stopped but right now her soul focus was smoothing things over a little bit between her and Derek.

"Yeah, ten years is a long time, Sloane. What's your status?" Derek's tone changed from even to passive-aggressive and back again and Sloane knew she would have to tread softly.

"Special Agent-in-charge. I work with the HRT and the SVU." Sloane had carefully selected her words, she had a higher rank than him and she didn't want him to think she was rubbing it in, she wasn't gloating, she'd just worked hard and been the over achiever they both knew she was. Sloane was also well aware he probably meant her marital status, too, but she wasn't willing to go into detail yet - he obviously knew she was married, her last name giving it away but they had a case to work and she knew she had to get out of there.

"Sounds like you've been working hard." Derek gave her a small smile, draining the last of the coffee out of his cup and walking over to put it in the trash can. Sloane let out the breath she didn't realise she'd been holding, subconsciously noticing that the rest of the room did the same.

"Yeah, you have been too, clearly." Sloane kept her tone light, she kept the small smile on her face. Derek may have given her an inch but she knew better than to take the mile, she always had known. It was a fact of life with an Alpha Male like him; he had all the strengths and capabilities but he also had such a vulnerable streak you had to know how to handle him. Baby steps.

"Speaking of work…" Rossi interrupted, looking from Sloane to Morgan and back again. "I don't mean to interrupt but we are on a tight timeline here."

"Of course." Sloane nodded, her hands slipping into her pockets as she turned to look at Prentiss. "I'm ready when you are." She gave the other women a bright smile, trying not to make a bigger fool of herself than she already had when Emily gave her a warm smile in return, indicating for her to take the lead.

Derek remained silent as she walked passed him and Sloane swallowed hard, old feelings bubbling to the surface. He still held himself the way he did all those years ago, he still smelled the same, he was still him and that gave Sloane the biggest comfort; even when the world was going crazy around her, Derek Morgan was still Derek Morgan.

Sloane rolled her eyes when Mercer glared at her as she passed, heading towards the parking lot, only slowing slightly when Prentiss moved away to get a police officer to go with them. It was then that it struck her; the realisation that Derek hadn't changed meant that the wounds were internal; the scars weren't on the armour that he used to protect himself, the wounds were deep and that made her whole body hurt. Hurting him was the last thing that Sloane wanted but her fight or flight response had kicked in and she was too weak to fight. The other thing that hit her, too, was the butterflies. The weak in the knees feeling that he always made her feel and that was a problem in itself. A very big problem.

The cool air hit her face as she stepped out into the parking lot, the door closing behind her as Sloane took a moment to just breathe. Today was not going as planned as it was; she needed to get her head in the game and into this case, everything else could wait. Her cell vibrated in her pocket, her belongings having been returned to her while they were moving boxes. Sloane looked at the caller ID and let out a sigh.

"Lucas." She did her best not to sound tired down the receiver, this day couldn't really get worse.

"Sloane, Bob called. He said you'd been arrested, I'll give Carl a call, tell him to come down and meet with you, don't worry, we'll get you out of this." Lucas rushed through the sentence before Sloane could even get a word in edgeways.

"It was a misunderstanding, Lucas, I'm helping them with the case. There's no need to have Carl drive up here, I'm fine." Sloane tried to convince herself that Lucas was calling because he cared and he loved her and he was doing what every husband would do in this situation; but she couldn't help but feel that same void of doubt over his motives. She couldn't help but listen to that little voice in her head telling her that it was his need to flex his muscles, his need to be the hero all the time that was driving this thing.

"Well, I'll send Carl up and you can sue them for Wrongful Arrest."

"Lucas-"

"They need to learn, Sloane, that you can't just do that to people. You can't just barge into places and arrest people for nothing."

"Lucas." Sloane tried to interrupt again, but she knew it was no use, when Lucas got an idea into his head it was hard to dislodge. _Not unlike Derek,_ the little voice reminded Sloane and she caught herself smiling before she had the chance to stop herself. At least he would give up when Sloane said no. At least Derek did things out of want to protect her and not out of trying to gain anything else from the situation. At least he knew that no meant no.

"I mean who does Mercer think he is? He's a pompous imbecile who should be-" Sloane snapped out of it when she realised she was letting Lucas gather steam on his argument.

"Lucas would you shut up and listen to me for one goddamned minute? God." Sloane grit out, pinching the bridge of her nose as she paced back and forth. She knew Lucas wouldn't be used to her speaking to him like that, she was usually so calm and collected and prim and proper for him. His perfect little trophy wife. "I'm fine. I'm working. I'll be home when I can. I'll call Sykes and let him know I'll be working here on this case as per Mercer's request. I'll call you later."

"I don't know where you get off on talking to me like that, Sloane." Lucas stated, anger colouring his voice. "But I think you should have a good think about that and call me when you're ready to apologise."

"I'll see you when I get back." Sloane told him before clicking the cell closed. She didn't know why she was being so bold towards Lucas, where the sudden feistiness had come back into her from and she knew he wouldn't like it. Not like… The sound of the door opening caused Sloane to shove the cell into her pocket and take a deep breath, pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind.

"You okay?" Prentiss asked, a gentle hand on her elbow.

"Yeah, I'm good. We ready to go?" Sloane smiled at Prentiss, masking the shock at the level of welcoming the darker brunette was still extending to her, despite the obvious history with Derek.

"Yeah. Do you know what we're looking for?" Prentiss asked, only a slight hint of doubt in her voice as they walked down the stairs behind the officer.

"I'm used to profiling under pressure so I'm pretty confident I'll be able to work out when something doesn't fit or fits too well with this case." Sloane joked, noticing the slight smirk on Emily's face. "But you knew that, you're just trying to find out how I got to where I am to see if you can piece together how I know Morgan."

"You're good." Prentiss laughed as she opened the door to the police cruiser, turning to look at Sloane. "You've probably had enough of riding in the back of one of these for today, huh?"

"Just keep your handcuffs where I can see them and I'll be fine." Sloane opened the back door and slipped into the car, trying to fight the smile off of her face when the dark haired agent laughed again as she got into the car. Sloane caught movement out of the corner of her eye, Agent Hotchner leaving the station along with Derek, her stomach flip flopping when he caught her eye. Her lips quirked in a small smile that he didn't return, simply looked away and followed Hotchner down the steps. Sloane didn't react to the sympathetic smile she got from Emily in the rear view mirror, swallowing the disappointment as she watched Morgan and Hotchner walk to he black SUV sitting in the lot.

It was then that it was clear; this case wouldn't be about Sloane and Derek and fixing things. During this case he would be SSA Morgan and they'd be working together to bring down an unsub.

* * *

><p>Morgan watched as the police cruiser left the parking lot and turned right, tossing the keys to the SUV from hand to hand. When he had gotten up that morning; he'd asked the question that most people do when life keeps throwing shit at them; <em>could things get any worse?<em> Apparently someone hadn't got the memo that said it was a _rhetorical _question. Derek had just been getting his sleeping pattern somewhat back on track, been managing to call home at least 3 times a week, too. He'd even got back into working out, his routine was almost on track and now this?

Morgan sighed as he walked over to the car, pointedly ignoring the look that Hotch was giving him. He never was one for dramatics, wanting nothing more than to bury this like everything else, but he knew he wouldn't get the chance to bury this for long before Garcia or Reid or Prentiss would try to get information from him. Information he wasn't willing give out. Information that had been filed away under 'never to go back to' ten long years ago . Some things from the past should stay there.

"You know." Hotch stared as soon as Morgan got into the car and Morgan sighed. Out of everyone, Hotch wasn't his first go to for butting in on his '_do not disturb_' attitude when it came to emotions. "You could have told us that you knew Sanderson, would have saved Garcia a whole load of time and paper if you had." There was something in Hotch's tone that Morgan couldn't quite place, but he knew he didn't like it.

"I don't know Sanderson." Morgan replied, putting the SUV into reverse. He knew what he was doing here, he knew it wasn't exactly truthful and was pushing it, but it was partially true. He didn't know Sloane Sanderson, probably wouldn't have given the name a second thought had it appeared across his desk, but now he could put a face to it? Now he could put a face to it and shit had gotten real.

"You must be the most perceptive profiler ever to walk this earth. That or psychic. You both must be if that little showcase back at the station was anything to go by." Hotch's voice was even, giving nothing away as to if he was pissed off about the whole situation or he was about to offer Morgan as much personal time as he needed, Hotch simply looked between the windshield and the file on his lap that he hadn't let get out of his sight ever since Garcia had handed it over. He knew it was nothing to do with the case, he knew what was in the pages of that manila folder, but he hadn't wanted to call Hotch on it, nor Garcia, when he saw who Agent Sanderson was.

"I didn't say I hadn't met her before." Morgan looked from Hotch to the file and back out of the window as they pulled out of the parking lot, he knew he had to pick his words carefully. Hotch was someone he looked up to, one of the best, he would notice something was off and realise everything right off of the bat if Derek wasn't careful. "I don't know an Agent Sanderson, but I do know an Officer McCall. Now can we drop it?" Morgan knew Hotch wouldn't let it go so easily, he was always all over Derek's back about the trust issues that he had, not that Hotch would outright always say it to Morgan, but it was always implied.

"Sure." Hotch answered a little too quickly, causing Morgan to glance over to him again. "I have all I need to know here." He waved the file a little, holding the edge to open it before Morgan rested his hand on it, eyes flicking between the road, Hotch and the file. Something compelled him to keep the file shut, to make sure no-one knew what was inside. To protect the information from the others.

"Don't do this." Morgan said quietly into the car, it was scarily close to pleading and Morgan hated it, hated how she made him feel after all those years of pretending she hadn't even existed. "You can trust her. She was a good cop. Driven, determined, one hell of a shot. She's good." Morgan had hated it when they went through his life all of those years ago; dredging things up he didn't want them to know; pulling things out of the deep dark hiding places of his life that they didn't _need_ to know. Morgan didn't want them snooping around in Sloane's life either, yes he wanted answers, but Garcia level of snoop isn't something that he wanted his team trawling through. Derek sighed when he thought of Garcia, she'd know all of this, everything that she'd dug up, she'd know.

"You don't know Agent Sanderson, you said it yourself." Hotch looked back at Morgan, openly staring at him, not hiding the fact that he was looking for any clues into how he was feeling, looking for the micro-signals that would help him work out what happened. Morgan knew Hotch would do that, use his own words against him to get to the truth. It was interrogation 101. His mother had been doing it for years and she didn't have a degree in criminology or psychology.

"Then call her Superior. There's no need to go through her life for one case. I don't see you going through all of the histories of the Detectives we work with." Morgan felt the anger bubbling and he knew he would have to reign himself in. Sloane didn't need him to protect her anymore, she clearly had that one down to a T, but something still felt off about the whole thing. It was like a reflex to protect her. Muscle memory that had caused him to feel physically sick the second he saw her.

"What did you think I was going to do?" Hotch asked and Morgan looked over at him, not bothering to mask the confusion, it seemed like a pretty stupid question to be asking at this point. It was pretty damn obvious what he was doing.

"You were going to read her file." Morgan deadpanned, wanting to see Hotch's reaction, but they'd just pulled into a busy street and taking his eyes off of the road wasn't something he was willing to do right now.

"I was getting this." Hotch opened the file and took out the cover sheet with the brief history of Sloane Sanderson's record of employment along with her picture, status, her position, department, her weapon and its ID number, her ID and social security numbers as well as her cell number and her Superior's name. Derek gave a quick sideward's glance and let out a huff of a breath.

"I don't check up on law officials if they don't fit the profile, Derek." Hotch's voice was weird again, as though he was genuinely not trying to test Morgan's patience just assess where his head was at with this.

"Well the fact that she's here means she doesn't fit the profile. Besides, I didn't realise we even had a profile." Morgan snapped as they approached a stop sign and let his head fall back against the seat. "I'm sorry." he sighed again, trying to ignore the hurt that was coursing through his veins and had been since he laid eyes on her in that conference room.

"Look, if this is going to cause issues, we'll pull her from the case. We just need an extra man until we can get the profile out and she's a viable source of information." Hotch offered, not taking his eyes off of Morgan as the other agent pulled away from the lights and checked the street names. Morgan was hyper aware of Hotch watching him; he knew he must have been giving off some sort of micro signals at this rate; if he couldn't control his temper or the fact his hands were sweating, he had little to no chance of controlling the little things.

"There are no issues. I'm fine and we need her. I'm just tired, the sooner we get this done the sooner I can sleep." Morgan was grateful when Hotch gave him a slight nod and took his cell out, dialling the Boston Field office's number.

Derek couldn't quite place if he didn't like the idea of them rummaging through Sloane's background because of something they would find out about him; or them rifling through her background because of something they would find out about her that he couldn't find. Morgan was proud of his skill set, proud of his ability to profile people and find them; but when Sloane left, he couldn't find her. Even if it was before both of their FBI days, it still bugged Derek the way she just seemed to vanish right out of Chicago and right off of the face of the earth.

He had always known that one day he would have to deal with this issue, that every time he was called out on a case there was a part of him who wondered if she would be there as part of the team they were helping. He never did question if she had stayed in law enforcement; he knew she'd transferred out but no-one would tell him where she'd transferred to. Part of Derek had always wished that he would run into her again; for closures sake but now that the chance was here; he didn't know if he wanted it. It wasn't anything like he'd planned.

In all of his plans for this moment Sloane never had a different last name. She was still Sloane McCall. She was still a brunette. She was still a cop. He let out a little snort at how different she actually was. She was a big bad FBI agent now, she'd lost a good few pounds, her hair was lighter and she was married to some guy. Morgan wondered about him. What he was like, what he looked like. What he did for a living. Was she happy. He had no idea where all of this was coming from; where the sudden urge to make sure that she was alright, safe and happy had suddenly come from after being long forgotten about in these past few years. How long had Sloane and her husband been married? How long had they even been together?

A pang of hurt hit him hard in his ribcage and he subconsciously checked to see if it was physical - because it certainly felt like it, perhaps Hotch had nudged him thinking he was too far gone in his thoughts but Hotch was still on the line with Sloane's superior, making baseball jokes and talking little league. It was then that Morgan caught his reflection in the rear view, his eyes were puffy and had bags under them, he really needed a good sleep, but he knew he wouldn't get it here. Not with so many problems at his door step wrapped up in a perfect 5ft 6" package. He needed to keep his game face on and practise what he preached; He didn't know Special Agent-in-Charge Sanderson, so he would have no trouble working with her at all.

* * *

><p>Sloane let out a slight chuckle when she walked into Martha Carrier's apartment. I looked nothing like her first place did; there were family photographs and canvases all over the walls, drawings from younger relatives displayed on the fridge by magnetic letters. It was warm and inviting. It was <em>home<em>.

"What's so funny?" Prentiss' voice came from the living room where she had decided to check out first while Sloane had asked the neighbours some questions.

"Nothing, it just doesn't scream home-wrecker to me. It's too, homey." Sloane answered as she walked into the living room and pulled on a pair of gloves. "Anything in here?" She asked as she looked around the lemon walls, dotted with more family photographs and over to the bookshelf with all of the children's books on the lower shelves and the more adult themed book at the top.

"No. I was just thinking the same thing as you. She seems really family orientated. I just don't see her as the 'I'll sleep with your man' type. She doesn't have children, we know that but there is evidence of children in and out of here as frequently as adults."

"I'd never met Martha, only heard the other girls talking about her, but she does seem the settling down type and in my experience if a guy cheats with you? He's gonna cheat on you." Sloane gave a small smile.

"Well that's sound advice." Prentiss laughed as she opened the drawers at the coffee table.

"I'm gonna go check out the bedroom, see if there is anything in there that screams 'I'm a whore'." Sloane tilted her head to the side, indicating the doorway when Prentiss looked up. "unless you…?"

"No, go on. That's what you're here for, make things go faster." Prentiss gave Sloane another warm smile and Sloane returned it with a small nod as she wandered into the hallway smiling again at the photograph of Martha and what she could only assume were her parents. It was a posed photograph, but not a professionally taken one and Sloane had to force herself not to think of the devastation this would cause for her family. Martha was a good woman according to her neighbours and they hadn't seen many people visit the house; much less males and Martha kept mostly to herself.

Sloane walked into the bedroom and raised her eyebrows. It was plain in here, nothing incredibly personal aside from a few photographs, books and her laptop. Anyone could have been sleeping in here; it was a drastic change from the rest of the house. _Keeping up appearances_? Sloane wondered, knew how it felt to be scared of your own skin, to be strong on the surface but not all the way through. She looked around the room again; feeling the white walls closing in around her and she had to remember how to breathe; remind herself that just because Derek had jumped back into her life from ten years ago that nothing else would.

Sloane Sanderson wandered around the room, opening drawers and cupboards, looking for things that she could use to catch this killer and get the hell out of dodge. She didn't need Derek popping up right when her life was slowly getting back on track, but Sloane paused as she reached the desk in the room and looked around her again; she couldn't think of a time that would be better for him to strap on his shining armour and spring into her life. He was always there when things were the craziest they'd ever been, so why not now.

She tilted her head at the few books propped up on the desk before raising her eyebrows as she picked out one title in particular.

"Hey, Prentiss. I think I have something." Sloane called out as she examined the book, flicking through the pages and catching the photograph that was being used as a bookmark.

"What've you found?" Prentiss asked as she walked into the bedroom, clearly thinking the same thing Sloane had as she looked around the room.

"Aside from the fact our girl certainly had a lot of issues with herself? I mean she doesn't even have a mirror in here." Sloane looked around the room again, feeling more and more uncomfortable about the whole thing the longer she spent in here. She continued at Prentiss knowing shrug. "I found this."

"The Crucible." Prentiss raised her eyebrows and Sloane nodded.

"I'm thinking some kind of class or production is being put on." Sloane walked over to Prentiss, book and photo in hand. " This photo was at the beginning of act four. I was thinking we could take back the laptop and see if your technical analyst could do something with it?"

"_If_ Garcia could do anything with it?" Prentiss laughed again and threw her arm around Sloane's shoulders as she led her out of the room before pulling our her cell. "I don't know what kind of Analysts you have in Boston, but there is absolutely no doubt about Garcia's ability to find anything out of place in that laptop."

"Right." Sloane grinned, reaching into the bag for an evidence wallet, more determined than ever to stick to protocol on this one, it would get back to the bureau about her run in with a blast from the past and her entire credulity as an Agent would go down the pan. She walked back into the bedroom and bagged the book, the laptop and the photograph, wondering if this Garcia woman was as good as Emily claimed. She'd obviously came in with Derek and was acting really shifty around Sloane when it became apparent that she and Derek knew one and other.

Sloane leaned back when Prentiss let out a rather loud "Really?" and she felt her face flush. She knew she was being stupid about this, she knew she was being paranoid, but she couldn't help it. Sloane felt like she was in High School all over again when her year group found out that she and Mikey Heston were dating, she had never lived down dating the school nerd. Looking back at the laptop Sloane felt a surge of jealousy towards this Garcia. She was pretty, Sloane had to admit, seemed really intelligent and she was exactly the kind of girl she'd pictured Derek; someone quirky but independent, strong but sweet. Someone who needed him as much as he would need them. Derek wasn't one to talk about his feelings, he was the typical 'actions speak louder than words." kind of guy, but when he needed someone to be there for him; he really needed them and Sloane couldn't help but think that Garcia was that girl for Morgan.

She thought of the other girls at the precinct back in Chicago, wondering what they're faces would be like if he walked through their doors at one of the reunions with Garcia on his arm. Garcia wasn't one of those conventionally beautiful women but Sloane could definitely see her appeal; she had that whole 30s glamour thing going on, even if she was unique. Sloane realised then that she was standing in the middle of a dead girl's bedroom, thinking about someone she used to know with someone she barely met and she was nearly crying about it.

Sloane pulled off her gloves and wiped her eyes just before Emily walked into the room.

"Get this; I called Hotch to tell him about the book and… are you alright?" Emily asked from the doorway, looking Sloane up and down.

"What? Yeah, yes. I'm fine." Sloane smiled, getting a handle on her emotions before she ended up crying. "I've had a long week and this weekend was supposed to be about relaxing, not getting arrested and snooping through people's things." Sloane joked, tucking her gloves into her pocket and moving to get a fresh set. "I just feel so sorry for those girls and their families, I've never really known a victim in something like this before." It wasn't exactly a lie, but then again, Sloane was well versed in half truths and cover ups. She knew how to twist scenarios to make them fit, she knew how to mask one emotion with another; covering up why she was upset was easy, even with a profiler as good as Emily was.

"Yeah, over at the HRT you don't get much of a chance to know who the hostages are, do you?" Prentiss asked as she leaned back against the doorframe, a small smile on her face.

"We usually focus on keeping the body count down by narrowing in on the suspect. Kidnapping cases are harder and that's without even thinking about the SUV cases we work." Sloane was relatively well known for her success rates at keeping the body counts down in hostage cases and abductions. Her team in Boston were the BAU of Hostage situations and kidnappings. They'd offered her a transfer to Quantico but when she asked about her team Sloane was told they were staying put, to which Sloane had said fine. So was she.

"You sure you're still onboard for this case. We can let you get back to your weekend." Prentiss asked, something in her voice that Sloane couldn't place. Sloane nodded.

"This bitch made me a suspect in this case. I don't care if it was intentional or not, Emily, I want to know who she is and what she thinks she's doing. What were you saying about Agent Hotchner?" Sloane smiled gratefully at Prentiss before moving towards the door, the faster she got back to the police office, the faster things would be processed and the faster she could get some rest. Away from agents and laptops and serial killers and this damn play and Derek Morgan.

"Oh, yeah, they found a copy at all of the victims' houses, all with the same photograph." Emily smiled as Sloane passed by her, saying something to the officer that Sloane didn't quite hear before they were both back outside. "He wants us all back at the station as soon as possible, forensics will go over the apartments, but I don't think we're going to find much more."

"Was there a calendar or a memo board?" Sloane stopped abruptly in the entrance way and Prentiss turned to face her.

"I didn't look." Prentiss spoke slowly as though she had just realised the fact.

"I know there wasn't anything in the bedroom or living room, but I have both or I'd forget my own name." Sloane laughed as she walked back into the house and into the kitchen, making a beeline for the little notice board next to the fridge. "We could get Garcia to check some of these things out with events in Martha's life?" Sloane pointed to the pieces of paper that simply had names, dates and times on them, nothing else.

"That's a good idea, we'll make a BAU profiler out of you yet!" Prentiss snapped a shot of the layout of the board with her cell before she started to remove the pins and the paper from the notice board before her cell began to ring.

"I got this." Sloane put her gloves back on and took the paper from her and continued to systematically remove the notes and their corresponding pins, separating them into new piles. "What's up?" Sloane asked when she heard Prentiss' heels on the tiled floor again.

"Change of plans. We've found another body. I'll drop you at the station and you can help Garcia go through this and we'll check out the new crime scene." Prentiss held out two evidence bags, one for the paper, one for the pins as Sloane sighed and nodded. Apparently someone didn't get the memo she'd had more than enough for today.


End file.
